


Icarus

by Akichin



Series: Body Language [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Art, Astronomy, Brian May POV, Developing Relationship, Inaccuracies, Insecurity, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, Mythology References, POV Second Person, Period-Typical Racism, Pre-Queen, brian is a nerd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-17 03:49:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16967109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akichin/pseuds/Akichin
Summary: «Do you really think I look like a Da Vinci’s painting?»He gets away from you, a sense of emptiness invades your head and your chest gets a bit tighter when you look at him, silently, in front of your mirror.And he stays like that for five, ten long minutes -an eternity- with his eyes darkened by a cloudy, invasive feeling of insecurity.You know what he’s thinking, you’ve always been bad at understanding and comforting people, yet you feel the urge to say something, a thing,a random thingshould be enough to fight against the heavy pressure that’s swooping on you.«I think you’re more like...a G-type main-sequence star?»«A what?»His confusion is understandable, but you can’t help but feel embarrassed, rosy cheeks as a shy middle school girl.«You’re like the Sun, Freddie, the bloody Sun.»And with his curious gaze you get yourself burned - like Icarus, you won’t never learn when to stop.





	Icarus

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, you! Watch the sky and you’ll see a lovely meteor shower these nights!
> 
> \--  
> As always, English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if it's messy/bad written.  
> This will be probably get a sequel! (I felt sorry while writing this because John wasn’t in, so... 😂)  
> P.S. I always write Roger as a bad guy, I'm sorry 😂

Something hubristic hides in his eyes, in that cocky expression and even in his posture - gracious, yet menacing, as if he’s trying to draw your attention, but at the same time, he’s maybe waiting for _you_ to make the first move.  
You’re not exactly the best in this kind of things - Rog always says you behave like an old grandpa, even if you’re only 23 -, but it’s true only in part.  
Simply, there are days when you like to spend time alone, thinking about all the little, big details of your everyday life - your career as a student and then, the band - even if these last few weeks haven’t been exactly the best.  
And Freddie, in this vague picture, is a constant element who follows you casually, he sneaks in your head in melancholic nights like this, when you think about what you’ve already achieved and what, on the contrary, you long to.  
You don’t know what you’ll become in the future, but it’s crystal clear that you _were born for a reason_ \- it may sound a little too sentimental for a guy like you, but you can’t imagine an existence without music.  
Your guitar is exactly next to you, in that van of yours - eternal companion of an experience that can’t be summarised and neither your relationship with Freddie deserves oversimplifications.  
Fred is a turbulent, wild, unruly mix of emotions; he doesn’t stay still, he hates indolence, those who are afraid to face changes and, in fact, he can be considered the Queen of metamorphism.  
It’s his speciality, _an art_ \- becoming a different person everyday and yet, always staying the same; he’s the boy with the glittering make-up on the cheeks, the friend and the good confidant.  
He’s open to everyone - he’s a performer, after all - even so, there are parts of him, well hidden and cryptic, that only a few people deserve to know.  
You’re not always one of them, but there are trivial matters that you can’t just miss: the way he hides his teeth behind his hand while laughing, how much he cares for his hair and every, other details that you notice naturally after a long period of acquaintance.  
Of course, there are things you hate about him too, that’s a innate aspect of life, but everyone has flaws that makes them irreplaceable - and yes, you’re absolutely sure that Freddie is irreplaceable, in many different ways.  
  
And after all the overthinking, you might feel a little bold, even outrageous - confident in a night that can become special, _you want it to become special._  
That’s why you leave your van, your beloved guitar follows you with a strap against your shoulder, and Freddie’s figure is getting more and more near as you walk towards him.  
His eyes, for a brief moment, rests on your face, smiling as he’s been waiting you for hours; you know that he was keeping himself busy with small talks, chatters and other pointless conversations, but now he leaves everyone to welcome you with two beers in his hand.  
«What a lovely surprise. You finally got the courage to come here, Mr. May?»  
Your lips twitch in a smile for an instant and you can do only that - not a word or a sigh, just a pleasant silence while you both drink your first sip together.  
The bitter taste moistens your mouth and it goes down in your throat, until you get used to it - a habit that is slowly becoming a ritual between you two, as if there’s something extraordinary about drinking a cheap beer under a starless, cloudy sky.  
Nothing you haven’t already done before, but even a crappy drink tastes decent if there’s a good partner with you - a little secret between you and Freddie only.  
Not that Roger isn’t important to you - he is, in fact, your best friend - but with Freddie you always feel ready to challenge your familiarity, trying and discovering something new.  
A thing both frightening and captivating, but you must stay aware because if you get too close to that sun, you may fall as an Icarus in the fatal and unforgiving reality.  
«I thought you had finished for today. Do you have to play again?»  
You read expectation and curiosity in his eyes, as if a part of him can’t wait to see you on a stage again, and you find his reaction unusually because, only a couple of days ago, he wasn’t so kind while criticising your past performances.  
At first you were a bit offended by his frankness, but now - if you really think about it - you’re glad that there’s this kind of honesty between you.  
It’s what you actually need as a rising guitarist because you want to learn, _to get better_ \- even if it means to miss for a couple of times your-so-longed sense of perfection.  
«No, but I don’t even know where Roger is.»  
You’re already imagining him with a cute brunette - just one of the many - and Freddie agrees with you a few seconds later.  
«I bet he’s with a girl. Such a Don Giovanni.»  
And that’s the moment when you see his previous look again - your own face and curly hair are reflecting in his irides, but there’s something more that you can’t immediately catch.  
It’s the strange way to communicate of his - nothing too much noticeable nor easily to understand, and the sad fact is that you just stay there, still, waiting for a hint that may never arrive.  
«And he has a naïve guitarist as a friend, overprotective with his guitar which he carries as if it’s his only daughter.»  
You can’t really say a thing about it - it’s accurate and this makes you a bit angry because it means you’re becoming too obvious to his eyes and you just don’t want to be boring with him, never in your life.  
«Is it a strange way to ask me to join you and your fashion club for the night?»  
«Maybe.»  
He shrugs his shoulder childishly, yet always with that grace typical of his - and you won’t change your idea: he may be a bloody drama queen, but he surely knows how to carry a title with honour.   
«But no, only you and me, darling. And your beloved guitar, if you can’t live without it.»  
You roll your eyes and that’s enough a reply - you’ll make an exception for tonight. _Only for tonight._

  
♛♛♛

  
After that night, you made a lot of new exceptions for Freddie - not just for him, actually, but for your relationship in general: an afternoon you left your guitar on the back-seat of your car, another time you mostly forgot it on a bus when he was waving at you, completely wet in a typical rainy day in England.  
You don’t remember how it was possible, since you really treat your guitar as a part of you, but the only detail of that day that pops into your mind is how incredibly tight the clothes were against Fred’s skin.  
A stupid thing to remember especially now, with him, his extravagant fashion style, and cocky smile in front of you.  
You should probably delete the obscene picture from your head, but you just can’t because he’s looking at you, straight in the eyes, as if he knows that you’re thinking of him in a forbidden way.  
Yes, that’s probably true because you’ve already shared a kiss, weeks ago, so small and innocent for an eccentric man like him; but it felt right, exactly like one of those cheap beers you always buy together, fabulous in its own way.  
And Freddie is always such a tease with you, he never lets you free, prisoner in that invisible, yet real cage of his - but now you’re in public, in an anonymous corner shop, and there’s a not-so-lovely lady who’s watching you both, in a wary and sceptical way.  
A kind of look that you know very well and you bet Freddie’s used to it because he just smiles, chin up, with a proud, intimidating aura that makes him shine like Sirius, the brightest star you’ve ever studied during your astronomy lectures.  
It’s his way to prevent any problem, even if you know him, and Freddie Mercury can be a sassy bitch sometimes - winning arguments should be an Olympic sport and, unfortunately for you, you’d get only a silver medal.  
  
«Go ahead first, madam.»  
You gesture gently and expect a polite _`Thanks´_ , even a brief smile should be enough, but she doesn’t say a thing - _nothing_ except for a brute silence, interrupted by Freddie’s obvious giggling.  
He’s making fun of your gallantry, your common manners - even if, a moment after, you’d like to punch her when you catch a whispered _`Bloody foreigners´._  
You’re grateful for your self-control, but now a scowl remains on your face and it doesn’t vanish even when she disappears silently behind the exit’s door.  
«That’s what you get when you try to be a gentleman.»  
Your indignation fades a little after his voice, a low, ironical murmur to your ear; and you can feel his warm breath against your skin, as the most dangerous and distracting thing you’ve ever experienced.  
And you can’t stay angry at the world, _you just can’t_ , because this isn’t what Freddie wants for you, _for both_ \- your country is more than bigotry and prejudices, trivial things for insignificant people.  
«I really wanted to kick her in the face.»  
Freddie can defend himself, you know it - _you saw it_ , with all his complicate replies, his coldness in front of their ignorance, yet, you always worry for him. That’s what friends do, even if you may be more than a simply, little _`friend´._  
«Yes, shining knight, but I wouldn’t like to see you in prison for that witch, and you owe me a pack of delicious beer, in case you forgot.»  
« _This_ is exactly what I get when I’m trying to save your big arse, you’re killing me.»  
A malicious smile comes back on his face, you prefer him like this - with a bright, explosive sarcasm in those dark eyes of his - _he’s really killing you._  
«I know, and that’s what I like about you. You’re hopeless.»  
And you may not care at all.

 

♛♛♛

  
Freddie stays still on your bed like a lazy cat who doesn’t want to wake up and do something with his life.   
And then there’s you at the desk, a The Who’s vinyl filling the room, surrounded by books and messy notes that you should memorise for your next test.  
_I will pass it_ \- that’s what you say to yourself, a bit annoyed by the fact that Fred isn’t really helping with all his humming and finger drumming against the bed headboard.  
And to make matters worse, you have to think about the band too because, exactly in the worst period, your vocalist Tim decided to dump you, fucking up all your future projects.  
Roger said that things will go well, but it’s easy for him - he leaves all the hard work to you and you’re not in the mood for an audition.  
You know - _it’s a certainty_ \- that you won’t give up for a stupid trifle, but you’re worried and this situation will not change for a long time.  
«Do you really have to study even if I came here _only_ for you?»  
You didn’t even hear him getting up, but now he kindly put his hands on your shoulders and he’s so close, you can practically recognise his perfume.  
A sweet, intoxicating smell - fruity and incredibly feminine, but it doesn’t surprise you, so used to his neverending desire to experiment something new every day.  
_Queer attitude_ \- others may say, but you honestly don’t give a toss about what Freddie does or not do with his life; _it’s only his_ and social conventions are for those who are afraid of being themselves, anyway.  
«You should study too. Or you artists are too busy drawing things round?»  
You never saw one of his works, disinterested or maybe, even if you don’t admit it, afraid to ask something that you consider personal.  
Personal because Art is and will always be an effect of what a person feels, his life experiences, his memories and many other anecdotes that you don’t know about him yet.  
And a part of you is naturally attracted by the mysterious aspects of his being - the way he behaves when you’re not round, what he thinks about the country you both live in and, not least, what he would like to change about himself.  
Because you’re sure - _you saw it with your own eyes_ -  Freddie is seeking for his perfection too, behind that fiery appearance he built round himself - an insurmountable fortress that defends him from the external, harsh world.  
There comes a time in everyone’s life when you worry about what others think about you: _are you enough?  Are your parents proud of you?_ You could have been a better man if you had made different choices, but life can’t be always about regrets.  
And that’s what you like to tell in your music, even if one of your beloved guitar solos isn’t always enough.  
  
«We don’t just draw round, _we are art_.»  
That’s something absolutely hilarious in his whispered exclamation, you think he’s joking until you turn to him and no, there’s not sarcasm nor an insolent smile on his face.  
Freddie is serious, for once, and you can’t help it, the need to make fun of him overcome you and your typical seriousness.  
«So, you think I’m insane because I love my guitar, but for you it’s okay to feel like a Monna Lisa?»  
He rolls his eyes, half annoyed - half amused, that’s the moment when a brief, vibrant laugh escapes from his lips and the conversation takes an unexpected turn.  
«Do you really think I look like a Da Vinci’s painting?»  
He gets away from you, a sense of emptiness invades your head and your chest gets a bit tighter when you look at him, silently, in front of your mirror.  
And he stays like that for five, ten long minutes - _an eternity_ \- with his eyes darkened by a cloudy, invasive feeling of insecurity.  
A finger travels on his nose, touches his lips and then here’s an empty smile - just to observe the shape of his teeth.  
You know what he’s thinking, you’ve always been bad at understanding and comforting people, yet you feels the urge to say something, a thing, _a random thing_ should be enough to fight against the heavy pressure that’s swooping on you.  
«I think you’re more like...a G-type main-sequence star?»  
«A what?»  
His confusion is understandable, but you can’t help but feel embarrassed, rosy cheeks as a shy middle school girl.  
«You’re like the Sun, Freddie, the bloody Sun.»  
And with his curious gaze you get yourself burned - like Icarus, you won’t never learn when to stop.  
It’s risky, immature, but you can’t decide what you feel about him - it’s one of those unusual, irrational things that your big brain would like to avoid, but Freddie, no, Freddie knows how to destroy your logicality.   
He just behaves like he always does, with his dangerous looks, seductive smiles, and what makes you mad the most is that he’s aware of your weaknesses, taking advantage of them without remorse.  
You could say that you’re tired of all this - you don’t even know how to call it -, but a part of you is too involved now, you can’t let go just as much as him.  
«That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me, Brian.»  
He isn’t watching you directly, but your far reflection on the mirror; you seem so stupid right now, but he’s really impressed, as if he isn’t accustomed to be complimented.  
«Hush, I saw Mary’s moony eyes every time she sees you. That’s your thing.»  
And then he turns to you, delusion painted on his face, even if you don’t know if you said something wrong.  
«Are you really jealous of her?»  
You run a hand through your curls and bit your lips, unsure of what you should say to make him happy; he likes these kind of things - _being desired, wanted_ , even if your relationship is always a crazy ride, up and down, towards an unknown destination.   
He likes your rants about music, seeing you busy with your studies, but it’s always temporary - as if he’s doesn’t belong here, in your house, in your reality.  
Maybe he doesn’t belong anywhere, a free and unstoppable spirit, but for you it’s different - you need a place to call home, with your loved ones too. Including Freddie.  
But restraining him is an egoistic possibility and no, you’re not like that.  
«I’m not jealous, I’m just saying that you have already someone who loves you. No need to be surprised by a stupid praise.»  
«Sometimes Roger is right about you, you sound like a grumpy grandpa. And, if you ask me, that’s not sexy at all.»  
With that, he steals one of your best coats and just vanishes slamming the door shut.

♛♛♛

  
You’re already on your fourth cup of black coffee - without sugar -, but your eyelids are still heavy, falling ironically in a gentle way on your eyes.   
You haven’t slept for days, though you wake up at the same time, that’s what a diligent student, a good son does - despite your mind can’t exactly focus on the Dynamics of Galaxies’ book you keep near to your breakfast.  
Lazily, you flip though it without reading a single word; you just observe the several images on it, conglomerated stars in extravagant colours, some of them with strange names you’ve never heard before, and you think - only for a damn moment - if you should give up all the rest, thinking only about your degree.  
That’s probably what your parents desire, but _would it make you happy too?_  
You love science and it’s a fact that won’t change in the near future, yet the sensations you feel while playing are different, exclusive, something that you find hard to describe in a few words.  
And you know that, besides periods of indecision, there will always be persons like you, other young musicians and friends - even if you’re on the edge of arguing with all of them in a matter of days.  
First Freddie, for a thing you still don’t understand, and now Roger - with one of those cocky smiles of his.  
He just got here, messily dressed as if he woke up a little while ago; he reeks of bad tobacco and sex, you can’t help but wiggle your nose bothered by his obvious, disinterested behaviour.  
You should be used to it, he hasn’t changed a bit since you know him, after all, but sometimes you’d to shut the door down in his face and put a _“do not disturb”_   sign on it forever.  
However, you’re friends - that’s the way life is - and nobody is perfect, neither you.  
  
«So, why are you here?»  
He sits heavily on the first free chair he finds and, at first, he remains silent - watching you amused and annoyed at the same time.  
«Nice to see you too, Brian.»  
A sarcastic snort and then he lights up a cigarette without even asking your permission; to be honest, he isn’t a guest in your house, it’s, in some strange way, is home too, but now you’re not in the mood for a friendly breakfast together.  
«First, I need a place to crash. Second, did you really argue with Freddie? That’s...unusual.»  
He careful asks it  - out of character - but it’s easy to you to understand when he’s interested, yet not sure if the issue can be shared freely.  
You don’t know what Freddie told him, but you expected it, expected that he’d tell the story to Roger - and probably he took Fred’s side without even knowing the two versions.  
« _First;_ » you sighs, mimicking his words; «why should you need a place to stay? Weren’t you sleeping with that female friend?» a dusty blonde girl whose name you can’t remember, not that you are interested in his numerous love affairs.  
«Love ends for everyone, Brian.»  
He interrupts you with a whisper, but that’s the fakest sadness you’ve ever seen; he wasn’t in love with her, not a bit, probably they both liked to screw round and today she decided to dump him without warning.  
And, you think, he deserves it a little.  
«Bollocks for me, but you can stay. Just take a shower before sleeping on the sofa.»  
Your mother probably will pay you a visit this afternoon and as much as she knows Roger, it wouldn’t be acceptable to see him like _this._  
  
«You’re a good friend, you know it, right?»  
Cheeky bastard, he finds always a way to convince others, but maybe a part of you wants some company, even if you don’t say it out loud.  
«But really, what’s happening with Fred?»  
«That’s an interesting question.» You take a sip of your now cold coffee, not useful to wake up a little anymore. «We were just talking about.. _.things_.»  
You shrug your shoulders and Roger watches you intensely, as if he’s trying to decode what you’re hiding in your head; nothing important, you really don’t know what made Freddie so mad and no, you don’t even feel guilty.  
« _Things_...they call it like that now. But he may told me more than you think.»  
He moves casually and steals your coffee, hiding a fake innocent smile behind the cup.  
«Brian May, the smart wannabe astronomist, jealous of a random girl. That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.»  
You’re on the verge of telling him to fuck off, but he just hushes you, finishes the last drop of coffee and disappear fast towards the bathroom.  
Again, you’re left alone - your messy notes around and a sense of nervousness over you.

♛♛♛

  
You encounter Freddie again, after a week, in the pub where you usually meet - a sort of déjà-vu strikes you when you see him in the same spot outside, waving excited to Roger and, only after a couple of long moments, to you too.  
You reply with a shy nod, unsure if you should go there and greet him properly - but you haven’t time to overthink, since Roger hit your leg with one of his drum sticks; he’s obviously trying to get himself killed, however you’re more focused on Fred’s figure, shaking with laughter.  
He’s wearing your coat today too, tight jeans and a little eyeliner that makes his face more bright; a wisp of smoke escapes from his lips and he’s waiting for your first move again as many other nights.  
He just stays there, not properly angry, but his defiant look is silently asking for a confrontation - Freddie wants to see how much you’re a coward and you both know that you don’t like to lose any challenge.  
He’s bloody stubborn and so are you.  
So you stand up, walk lazily towards him and a cloud of smoke greets you first, forcing you to cough a little.  
«There you go.»  
«You don’t seem surprised at all.»  
He gives you a haughty glance, a sort of nonvocal _“What did you expect?”_ \- and a part of you deserves his attitude- but then again, you don’t know why you should feel sorry.  
«Well, I have plenty of admirers around, no need to be surprised by you.»  
He says, mimicking your past words; he points you with his cigarette and you feel like a child scolded by his parents.   
You try to justify yourself, even if Freddie doesn’t really seem _so much_ mad, a bit annoyed, that’s for sure, but you can’t stay angry at each other for a long time - that’s a strange fact between you two.  
«What I meant was that I’m not a soppy person, Fred, you can find this kind of things in other people.»  
You know Mary, she’s fine - smart, funny, and she respects Freddie; love doesn’t ask for more - it’s all about being understood, caring and sharing too. It’s a serious commitment - something you absolutely understand - and that’s why you know that out in the world there are more suitable people for him.  
«And what if I’ve found what I’ve been looking for?»  
Confused, but not impressed - you just shrug your shoulders to tell him that you haven’t problems with that - again, it’s his own life and you won’t decide what’s good or not for him. You are grow up and you certainly experienced worse things than a gentle rejection.  
«I’m talking about you, dumbarse. For a soon-to-be astronomist, you’re really so stupid sometimes.»  
He pokes you on the chest and this is the first - and probably last - time you see him blushing a little, or maybe it’s only the colourful light of the pub’s sign reflected on his face. A dreamlike picture that inspires you to write new music.  
«It’s just that I...We...Wasn’t I a grumpy grandpa a few days ago?»  
«And you still are. And a very clumsy lover, I can say.»  
_Lover_ \- He says it while smiling. It’s an immense, relevant word - you’ve never seen yourself as a lover - a rockstar, a scientist, a son and a lot of other possibilities, but a lover? That’s a new thing - typical from Freddie, after all.  
  
«Anyway, we have an audience to win over, pretty boy.»  
A puzzled expression on your face and a silence, a long silence, until Roger appears behind you, smiling like the idiot he is.  
« _We_?»  
«I might forgot to tell you _we_ are a thing now.»  
You should get angry, tell him that a band have to take new decisions together, but then you notice how Freddie is looking at you - hopeful, the brightest frontman you’ll ever work with, an everlasting Sun among thousands, anonymous stars.  
«We need to practice, we haven’t a setlist for tonight and what about the name? We can’t do it.»  
Fred is smiling in a too much convinced way and you’re sure, his ideas are usually extravagant, yet he’s too stubborn to change them. This means that you’ll stick to it, whatever he has in mind.  
«I need you and your bloody guitar. We’re the Queen, darlings.»  
And you feel like the only, lucky Icarus that learned how to fly.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr - @awesomeakimi  
> 


End file.
